


Feng Shui and Granite Countertops

by cakeisnotpie



Series: Clint and Phil (MCU Avengers Universe) [27]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Curtain Fic, Domestic Fluff, Family, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Hoarding, House Hunting, House Party, M/M, expensive cars, house porn, i wanna live there, lots of cameos of famous TV shows and movies, new york real estate, super expensive places to live
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-02-01 19:59:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12711927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cakeisnotpie/pseuds/cakeisnotpie
Summary: Finding a house for an Avenger, a SHIELD agent and their two mutant kids was never going to be easy.House Hunters: Avengers Edition + Magical Hoarders.Pure, unadulterated fluffy feels. Everyone is happy after some frustration.





	Feng Shui and Granite Countertops

**Author's Note:**

> I used actually New York realty for inspiration; I've linked the zillow webpage for each one below. Not sure if they'll still work after the house is sold. Guess we'll find out. 
> 
> New York is one of the most expensive place to live in the U.S.

Growing up, Clint dreamed of having a real house, the kind that came with a white picket fence and a big backyard, swing set and all.  A bedroom to himself with patterned sheets and a thick quilt, posters on the wall, and trophies on the shelf. Books and toys and a computer and a working night light that pushed back the shadows and the all too real monsters that lurked in his young life. To sleep deep without worry, no drafts from poorly caulked windows and icy institutional tile floors. 

 

He never understood the complaints of the other recruits about SHIELD barracks; the mattress was comfortable, the temperature amiable, and the showers had individual stalls with warm enough water. Three filling meals a day and a big screen TV in the ready room with cable. He had a trunk of his own that locked, an allowance for clothes, and a more than decent salary. Affordable healthcare, a pension fund, and, when he hit level three, a private room. What more could he ask for? 

 

Stark Tower, on the other hand, was an overabundance of luxury.  Clint could care less about imported granite, Viking ranges, and thread count of sheets. After a certain point, sheets were sheets; silk sounded sexy, but was slippery as hell.  Sure, he loved the scalding hot water and all the shower heads, not to mention the fancy infinity edged tub that was big enough for both he and Phil to soak in, but the need for a lot of bells and whistles eluded him.  A twenty dollar coffee pot and  a two hundred dollar one made the same cup of coffee. 

 

But, truth be told, he had gotten used to some of the perks of being an Avenger. Not paying a mortgage. Helipad and Quinjet facility in the building. Every freakin’ channel available on his TV plus some that were still in the development stages. Instant delivery and self-replenishing refrigerators -- yes, he knew it was Jarvis who did the ordering but he’d never seen a live person actually stocking the common room or his own kitchen -- not to mention world class views and electronic everything. 

 

So when it came time to strike out on their own, when the need for room to spread out hit the boundaries of living in close quarters with others, a house hunt for an Avenger, an agent, their nanny, and two little ones was never going to be easy. Dreams of a brownstone on a quiet neighborhood street within pick up distance of the Tower was going to be difficult to fulfill. Add in Clint’s bum knee and hearing loss, Phil’s decreasing mobility thanks to Loki’s scepter, a daughter who could transport through time, and a son who had a habit of tearing things apart to put them back together, and they had a tough road ahead of them. 

 

[ HOUSE #1 ](https://www.realtor.com/realestateandhomes-detail/59-E-117th-St_New-York_NY_10035_M43188-96278#photo0)

 

“This house is perfect!” chirped their realtor, a lovely older black woman who’d worked in SHIELD’s Human Resources department before getting her realtor’s license. “Great neighborhood, seven bedrooms, a media room, a workout room, and it’s in your price range.” 

 

Clint held the door open then followed Phil into the small entryway; in front of them a stairway led up and a closed door was on the right. 

 

“Seven bedrooms?” Phil asked as she keyed in the combination to the lock. “We’re just looking for four plus a study …” 

 

“The top two floors have been converted to apartments,” she explained. “The basement, this floor and the one above were the owner’s areas. With a little bit of work, you can make them whatever you want.” 

 

“A little bit of work?” Clint eyed the old carpet and ash darkened brick of the fireplace; the living area was small with no room for a table between the couch and the particle board cabinets of the kitchen. “This hasn’t been updated since the 80s at least.” 

 

“New flooring, new cabinets … it’s mostly cosmetic,” she said with a smile. “What you’re getting with this house is location and growth potential. The brownstone next door just sold for double the asking price of this one after it was renovated.” 

 

The yard was a small rectangle that backed upon an access street. Straining to open the sliding glass door, Clint could see the neighbors’ areas on both sides. “What about parking?” 

 

“Street parking or there’s a monthly garage down the street.” Jogging up the stairs, she waved them to follow. “Come on, let me show you the potential!”

 

[ HOUSE 3 ](https://www.realtor.com/realestateandhomes-detail/995-Fifth-Ave-Apt-7SOUTH_New-York_NY_10021_M45371-52936#photo0)

 

“... state-of-the-art security, a yoga studio, wine consultants, and a concierge.” Barbara, the fourth realtor, led them through the beautifully done kitchen with views of Central Park. “The whole place was the vision of a leading Brazilian architect …” 

 

“It’s gorgeous,” Phil agreed. “But way over our budget. By quite a bit.” 

 

“Yes, yes, but to get the luxury you’re used to, this is what you’ll have to pay.” She waved away Phil’s concern. “This is one of the best addresses in the city; the co op is very open minded about who they vote in. Foreigners and pets are welcome as long as the owners agree to abide by the rules. The president of the co op is a gay man, by the way.” 

 

“Yeah, well, how about kids? Are there any other kids in the building?” Clint asked, staring longingly at the rain shower and stand alone bathtub in the master bath. “We’re a long way from the kids’ schools.” 

 

“Oh, I’m sure they’ll make an exception to the bylaws for such famous tenants as you.” Barbara opened a set of doors with a flourish. “Look! His and his closets!” 

 

[ HOUSE 7 ](https://www.realtor.com/realestateandhomes-detail/526-E-5th-St_New-York_NY_10009_M48395-25372)

 

“Now, I know the color scheme is unusual,” Carl said, “but remember, paint is cheap. Look at the space and the quality workmanship here in the master bedroom.” 

 

After yesterday’s battle, Clint’s knee was bitching with every step of the six story house. Gritting his teeth, he stopped at the top of the landing and glanced at his husband. Phil was looking a little pale today, the hard fall he took from the quinjet weighing on him. 

 

“The bathroom is especially nice.” Carl kept talking, unaware of Clint sitting down on a bench in the hallway. 

 

“Too many stairs.” Phil joined him, leaning his head against the wall. 

 

“And too far away from the Tower,” Clint agreed. 

 

[ HOUSE 11 ](https://www.realtor.com/realestateandhomes-detail/323-W-80th-St_New-York_NY_10024_M36191-85347#photo0)

 

“Hey, this one’s for sale!” Tony announced over the comms, dropping Clint onto the rooftop deck with a view of the river. “What do you think?” 

 

“I think we need to figure out how to stop this ooze before it takes over the city.” Clint tried an EMP arrow but the ochre green substance swallowed it, tip and all, not even phased. 

 

A crash sounded from below; the Hulk rammed through the back door, tearing his way to the front and right into a wave of the icky stuff. 

 

“Bet you can get a deal on it now.” Tony buzzed overhead, oscillating the frequency of his repulsor blasts. “What with all the damage.” 

 

A flaming arrow fizzled and the boomerang one didn’t come back; Clint was running out of options. “You that desperate to get rid of us, Stark?” 

 

“You know you’re welcome to stay at the Tower. I’m getting used to your little mess makers.” 

 

Mess. Yesterday, they’d trashed the kitchen trying to make goop from an online recipe. Hardened clumps of baking soda and borax had clung to the bowl and the countertop. To clean them, they’d had to …

 

“Humidity!” Clint said. “We need hot and humid; if I blow that fire hydrant, can someone turn it to warm steam?” 

 

“On it,” Thor called. “Ready when you are.” 

 

One exploding arrow and water began to gush; Thor whirled his hammer, creating a warm vortex. A mist began to rise and, in minutes, the goop started to harden and break up. 

 

“Wow, Legolas, you’ve got to come see this master bedroom. It looks like something right out of Robin Hood. Big master closet too, but way too much dark wood for my taste.” 

 

“Not everyone likes chrome and black leather,” Clint told him. 

 

“Well, they should,” Tony replied. 

 

[ HOUSE 16 ](https://www.realtor.com/realestateandhomes-detail/333-Gates-Ave_Brooklyn_NY_11216_M33568-74046#photo0)

 

“Okay, I give. This place is gorgeous.” Clint stood on the rooftop deck, admiring the view. “We can make the basement into a workout space and mini-range.” 

 

“And Maggie’s bedroom is on the same floor as the kids,” Phil said, leaning against the railing. “I really like the kitchen.” 

 

“Yeah, the park just two blocks away? Great for Dodger.” Clint gauged the height of nearby buildings; a quinjet pick up was very possible. 

 

Silence fell for a full minute; Garnett, the most recent realtor, had left them alone to tour the house.  She was a keeper. 

 

“I just can’t see us here,” Clint admitted. “I know Steve’s all excited about Brooklyn and Bed-Stuy’s an up-and-coming neighborhood but …” 

 

“It’s not Manhattan. We’d have to get the kids into school every day and there’s the commute to consider for us. I can barely drag myself to our room in the Tower after a particularly brutal assignment much less get all the way out here,” Phil admitted. 

 

“So what? We raise our price limit? I just can’t see spending that much on a place. I know I’ve got a skewed view of money, but …” Clint began. 

 

“It’s not like we can’t afford it. We’ve barely touched our pay in years with Tony picking up all the living expenses. We’ve got it if we want to use it,” Phil reminded him. 

 

“So, what do you think?” Garnett asked as she came out of the stairwell. 

 

“I think we want to be on the island,” Clint replied. “Near the kids’ school.” 

 

“And in a place with fewer stairs,” Phil added. “We’ve got to think about retirement.” 

 

“Somehow, that’s what I thought you’d say,” Garnett replied. “Let me do some more looking and see what I can come up with.” 

 

[ HOUSE 22 ](https://www.realtor.com/realestateandhomes-detail/310-E-46th-St-Ph-H_New-York_NY_10017_M34458-35218#photo0)

 

“Maybe a penthouse is the best option.” Clint stopped by the floor-to-ceiling windows of the master bedroom, soaking in the view of the river. “There’s only three sets of stairs and an elevator up here.” 

 

“A little too much white for me, but that can easily be changed.” Phil stepped up beside him. “The terraces are nice although we’ll have to hire someone to keep the plants from dying.” 

 

“The security’s lacking; we’ll need Tony to upgrade it. It’s not like he’s that far away.” Clint pointed to the Tower, easily seen, just three blocks west. “We can be there in minutes.” 

 

A blur of red and gold streaked by then returned, hovering just outside the window. “Hey!” Tony shouted. “I need Katniss to come test some new flame retardant foam. Meet me on the roof.” 

 

Clint looked at Phil. “Too close.” 

 

“Too close.” Phil nodded.

 

[ HOUSE 27 ](https://www.realtor.com/realestateandhomes-detail/310-E-53rd-St-23ABC_New-York_NY_10022_M43597-30488#photo0)

 

“The kitchen’s great,” Garnett said. “Just redone. And the views are to die for; I thought you’d appreciate that, Clint.” 

 

“Pretty damn amazing.” Clint looked at the small balcony with thin glass and one metal railing, imagining Josh clambering up in seconds. “I’m not sure it’s child friendly though.” 

 

“About halfway between school and the tower,” Phil said, a furrow above one eyebrow, a sure sign he was getting frustrated. “We can double lock the doors to the balcony.” 

 

“It does have a helipad on the roof and a pool in the club. The master bedroom’s nice.” He was thinking about the Tower, the common room downstairs and all the people nearby. 

 

“This place is going to go fast; they’ve priced it to sell,” Garnett told them. 

 

Phil’s phone dinged; he pulled it out of his pocket and read the screen then held it out for Clint to see. 

 

“Well, shit.” 

 

“Problem?” Garnett asked. 

 

“The property is listed with a shell management company; I had Jarvis track down who really owns it. Midland Circle,” Phil replied. 

 

“Well, shit.” Garnett said. 

 

[ HOUSE 34 ](https://www.realtor.com/realestateandhomes-detail/50-United-Nations-Plz-Ph-38_New-York_NY_10017_M36306-18654#photo0)

 

“Bella, don’t climb …” Clint snatched at a leg, but she just laughed and dashed down the hallway, her feet echoing through the empty rooms. “Jesus that kid is fast.” 

 

It was a great place, penthouse level, all the amenities even if the price tag made Clint cringe. Helicopter landing up top, pool and kids playroom in the basement. Close enough to the Tower but not right next door. Plenty of space and pet friendly. 

 

He cornered Bella by the big freestanding tub, picking her up and dropping her inside. She rolled around then lay flat on her back, grinning up at him. “It’s so deep, Papa!” 

 

“Yes, it is. Want to move here and take a bath in it?” 

 

“Nope.” She reached out and he picked her up. “Bad things happen here.” 

 

“Bad things?” Clint kept his voice light;  the last thing they wanted to do was make her afraid of her abilities. Calm and steady, that was Xavier’s advice. “You don’t like it here, honey?” 

 

“In the closet there’s gonna be a hole,” she said. “And a sad man.” 

 

“Well, Bella Boo, there are plenty of places to look at; let’s find one without bad places, shall we?”

 

[ HOUSE 39  ](https://www.realtor.com/realestateandhomes-detail/215-Sullivan-St-A_New-York_NY_10012_M33311-52872#photo0)

 

“Maybe we should take a break.” Clint dropped his head onto the headrest, eyes closed as he listened to the hum of the SUV’s wheels. “A place in the Hamptons? What were we thinking?” 

 

A light flashed on the dash and Garnett touched the bluetooth in her ear. “Hey, what’s up?” 

 

“Our own beach and plenty of room for Lola.” Phil wound his fingers with Clint’s. “We could get a lot for our money there.” 

 

“And have ex-presidents for our neighbors?” Clint snorted. “Awkward when that senator two houses over finds out I didn’t vote for him.” 

 

“We’re on the way back to the city now. Why?” Garnett continued talking to whoever was on the line. 

 

“It does feel like we’ve seen everything on the market,” Phil said with a sigh. “It’s all blurring together to be honest.” 

 

“Yeah, I mean, you’ve seen one multimillion dollar penthouse …” Clint grinned. “Never thought I’d get to say that.” 

 

“You’re serious? Oh my God, yes. We’re supposed to see the apartment near the U.N. but I’ll push it back.” She motioned in the mirror, catching their attention. “Do you have the keys?  Should we park on the street or can we …”  She listened, her smile widening. “Absolutely. I’ll make a spot if I have to.”

 

“Something new?” Phil asked as she hung up. “You sound excited.”

 

“I am.” Her eyes sparkled in the rearview mirror. “This is the holy grail for a realtor, I kid you not.  Peter Hunter’s family just put his house on the market not fifteen minutes ago. The listing won’t go out until Thursday.” 

 

“Hunter? Wasn’t he that guy who thought he was Merlin reincarnated?” Clint vaguely remembered the name. “But that was back in the 40s.” 

 

“He was a member of the Knights of Pendragon until they disbanded in ‘62,” Phil explained. “Eccentric is the best word for him; refused to leave his house as he got older, had everything delivered. He made his money through his writing; worked on any number of TV shows and film scripts. I heard he had cancer, but I didn’t realized he’d passed away.” 

 

“Afew months ago. Checked himself in a private hospital without telling anyone; the boy from the corner bodega noticed he didn’t pick up his groceries from the entry,” Garnett said. “Everyone at the agency’s been waiting to see what the family decided to do; there’s only a couple of cousins in the U.K., and they weren’t on speaking terms. Hunter left his money to a number of charities including Xavier’s school, so there’s only the house and furnishings. Since no one’s been inside in over seven years, there’s no telling what shape things are in.” 

 

“Seven years?” Clint whistled. “That’s a serious case of agoraphobia.” 

 

“With schizophrenia and paranoia, according to the cousin. He told Freddie to sell the place as is, lock, stock and barrel, and to take the first serious offer. Everyone’s been salivating at the thought of listing it; six bedrooms, seven baths, underground private garage, wine cellar, garden space, floor-to-ceiling windows … I’ve seen photos of what it looked like in the 90s.” 

 

They talked about Hunter the rest of the way into the city, combing their memories for more information. As part of SHIELD’s approved realty agency, Garnett knew the history of the house. Phil had met Hunter once and Clint’s contribution was water cooler stories about some of the other more unique SHIELD associates. Despite the early afternoon traffic, they made good time, circling the block three times before giving up and taking a spot two streets over. 

 

“Hey, isn’t that …” Clint waved at the imposing facade of grey brick, heavy wooden door unadorned except for a small gold plaque with the address 177A.  

 

“The Sanctum Sanctorium.” Phil completed the thought. “Makes sense that Hunter would pick something nearby. The lay lines here are very concentrated.” 

 

“Do we want Strange as a neighbor? I mean …” Clint stopped talking as the door opened and the man in question jogged down the steps, looking right at them and waving. 

 

“There you are. Thought I might have missed you; getting the timing right is difficult on these fast moving things.” Tall, dark haired and handsome, Stephen stood out in a crowd, his red cloak swirling around his ankles. “If you can hang on a second, Wong’s on his way. He wouldn’t miss seeing Hunter’s place; there’s no telling what the man had squirrelled away in there. Any chance the estate is willing to entertain offers for some of Hunter’s library? He used to have some rare spell books.” 

 

No use in asking how Strange knew they were coming; he was a sorcerer after all. 

 

“That will depend upon who buys it. They’re selling the whole thing in one lot,” Garnett replied, obviously used to the weird world of magic as well. 

 

Just then, Wong came out the door, shutting it behind him.  In his hawaiian shirt and cargo pants, he looked like a tourist taking in the sights, not one of the most powerful martial artists and mages in the world. “Did you ask about …” 

 

“Yes.” Stephen nodded, following along as they started walking again. “We’d have to buy the whole property.” 

 

“Hey, now, we’re the ones looking at it,” Clint protested, checking the street before he crossed. “Get in line, dudes.” 

 

“Ah, yes, you’re in the market for a home. That would solve the problem nicely.” Wong grinned. “What with all the magical wards and paranoid security measure, it’s a good choice for your family.” 

 

“Wards?” Garnett asked, stopping in front of a copper filigree metal gate. 

 

“The red stone with the ash wood door,” Stephen said, pointing to the next house. “These are the new condos they build ten years ago.” He paused before the simple entry. “Good thing we’re along; I can see all kinds of magic lining the upper floors. It’s safe to open this one, though.” 

 

Inside was a small foyer, a round wooden table in the middle, framed by roughly added walls with two locked doors. A TV screen was mounted straight ahead, a panel with a keyboard below it. 

 

“This is as far as anyone got,” Garnett told them. “Deliveries were left on the table.” 

 

Running a hand over the door straight ahead, Strange closed his eyes. “Give me a moment,” he said, then he was gone. 

 

“Flashy,” Wong huffed. He took the door on their right, tapped three times then hummed. “Likes to put on a show.” 

 

“I heard that.” Stephen reappeared. “I tweaked the spells so we can enter but the items are still protected. It’s safe to open.”

 

The door swung inward, revealing stacks of cardboard boxes with only a narrow path between them. The dark interior made it impossible to see further. 

 

“Told you he was a hoarder,” Wong said.  

 

“Yes, you did,” Strange replied. 

 

“Where’s the lights?” Clint ran a hand along the wall but couldn’t find a switch. With a wave of a hand, Wong sent a glowing ball floating upwards, illuminating a high ceiling with scrollwork moulding and a modern silver chandelier. “Thanks.” 

 

“The great room should be through here somewhere.” Garnett wound along the path, pushing a stack of magazines out of the way. “What is all this stuff?” 

 

Each box was labelled with numbers and  letters. PIcking one at random, Clint opened the lid and glanced inside; packing peanuts obscured what was inside. 

 

“Some of these have never been opened.” Phil examined the mailing address on the other. “This is from  _ Profiles in History _ , the Hollywood auction house.” 

 

“Hey, look at this.” Clint gently pulled out a bubble wrapped, small spaceship. “Maybe he collected miniature ships?” 

 

Phil took it and turned it over in his hands. “A viper from the original  _ Battlestar Galactica _ .” He dug in the peanuts and found a packing slip. “Holy shit, this is one of the original models from the show.” 

 

“These are cels from  _ Mulan _ .” Wong held up a plastic sleeve from another pile. “I love that movie.” 

 

As they made their way past the most amazing set of floating stairs -- covered entirely with boxes and crates and unpassable -- and into a big open space that was probably the living room, Clint began to understand Hunter’s shorthand system; despite taking up all the available space, the hoard was organized by date acquired, original creation date, and alphabetical acronyms for films and television shows. Sitting on the  victoria blue quartzite center island , he found a whole collection of prop guns from  _ The Matrix _ . Inside the Italian made wood and metal cabinets was set after set of movie china, each carefully protected and catalogued. 

 

“It’s a scanomat coffee bar.” Phil reverently ran a finger over the dust covered appliance. “Doesn’t look like it’s ever been used.” 

 

“He covered up all the windows,” Strange complained. “And where’s the door to the patio? I distinctly remember …” With a wave of his hand, he made a section of drywall disappear; late afternoon sunlight flooded into the room. “Ah, there it is.” 

 

“Wow,” was all Clint could say as he stepped outside. Leaves had collected in the corners, the grass brown, furniture weathered and covered in cobwebs. “Look at the size of this space!” In his mind, he could picture cozy chairs, a working fire pit, a section of grass for Dodger to run and play with room for a family sized hot tub tucked off to one side. 

 

“A whole kitchen.” Phil opened the lid to what was once a state-of-the-art grill; he jumped back as a trio of starlings few up, their nest disturbed by his action. “Needs some updating, but the plumbing and electricity are already here. We can host a Fourth of July party.”

 

“Let’s check out the bedrooms,” Garnett called, motioning them to follow. “Four are on the second floor, three with their own bathroom, and the top floor has  two more plus the master. You could easily turn one of the smaller rooms into an office, Phil, and still have another for your Captain America collection.” 

 

“How do we get up there?” Clint asked. “The stairs are blocked.” 

 

“That’s one of this place’s surprises!” Garnett led them to a door in a nook behind the kitchen. “An elevator!”

 

Paneled inside with dark wood, the car fit all five of them and rose smoothly to the next level. Clint grinned at Phil as they exited, already thinking of how easy it would make getting around in a wheelchair and on crutch, an all too common occurrence in their lives. 

 

“Each bedroom should have its own bath …” Garnett trailed off when the first door they opened led into a small space crammed with boxes and a framed wall. 

 

“Property of Desilu Studios.” Clint read the printing on the backside of the plywood. “You don’t think …” 

 

Phil pushed one piece of paneling and it slid open like a barn door.  Grey painted walls, an  orange fabric covered mattress on the bed, and a desk with a strangely shaped computer monitor greeted them.  White plastic mannequins wore brightly colored costumes in red, gold and blue. Weapons and other devices were displayed throughout the space. 

 

“Captain Kirk’s quarters.” Garnett ran a hand over an oddly patterned divider screen. “I think this is the original set. Look at this costume; it’s torn at the collar just like the one in season one, episode 18, “The Arena”.” At Strange’s look, she shrugged. “I’m a fan. Makes dealing with SHIELD’s weird shit easier.” 

 

The attached bath was filled with more boxes, all Star Trek oriented collectibles and clothing. All the rooms on this level proved to be a similar setup;  the first was part of the Bat Cave from the 1966  _ Batman _ TV show, complete with multiple version of both Batman and Robin’s costumes from a wide selection of the movies. Clint’s favorite was a can labelled Bat Shark Repellent.  Much to Phil’s delight, one was Buffy Summer’s bedroom; the pair of sushi pajamas made Phil geek out.  Then they found the common room of the spaceship Serenity, and Clint did his happy dance around Kaylee’s hoop skirted pink dress and Jayne’s knitted hat. 

 

On the top floor, they found the first signs of daily life; a mini-fridge and freezer full of Marie Callender’s Chicken Pot Pies were side-by-side in the hallway. The first door yielded a hobbit hole study, pieces of the movie set mixed with Hunter’s computer and writing desk.  _ Lord of the Rings _ memorabilia, framed and in cases, was interspersed between stacks of newspapers and magazines from around the world. One whole wall was adorned with clippings and honest-to-god yarn used to tie and connect ideas together. 

 

“These are not his spellbooks,” Stephen declared. “They must be stored elsewhere.” 

 

“His journals could prove invaluable,” Wong argued. “We’ll need them too.” 

 

Clint opened the second smaller room, took a step inside and stopped cold. “Phil,” he breathed. “You’re not going to believe this.” 

 

Shelves loaded with books circled two walls; the others were covered in framed comic books above white comic boxes, each with a date range and a combination of publisher, series, writer, or artist. Clint pulled down a copy of  _ The Hobbit _ . 

 

“This is a first edition, signed copy,” Clint told the others, gently putting the book back. 

 

“Oh my God.” Phil stood rooted to the floor, staring at a comic with Steve Rogers punching Hitler on the cover  “A 1941 Captain America #1. One of these went at auction for over half a million.”

 

“Ptolemy’s  _ Geographia Cosmographia _ **_._ ** ” Wong whispered in hushed reverence, standing before a case with glass paned doors. A small digital readout registered the temperature and moisture inside.  “That’s a  _ First Folio _ and, oh …” Wong exhaled, his hands shaking as he lightly touched the wood, revealing a line of magical symbols that glowed blue. “ _ A Birds of America  _ by Audubon.”

 

“Didn’t one of those just sell at Sotheby’s? I remember reading the announcement,” Stephen said, looking over Wong’s shoulder.  “How much did it go for?” 

 

“Over $12 million,” Phil supplied the answer. “Here’s a  _ Pep Comics _ #22, Archie and Jughead’s first appearance; it would fetch somewhere around $1.5.  A complete first run of  _ The Howling Commando _ s.  There’s no telling what else is in boxes or storage.” 

 

“He had all of this and he never left the house.” Garnett shook her head. “It’s like a museum that no one ever saw.” 

 

“A museum. That’s a good idea,” Clint said. “We sell some of it to fund it.  Or we have a big auction and donate the proceeds to charity.”

 

“I’m keeping some of it,” Phil replied. “And we let Stephen and Wong pull out what could be dangerous or is magical. “ 

 

“I’ll make you a good offer for some of these.” Wong nodded towards the case. “The library is missing a few of them in our collection.” 

 

“Maybe you should see the master bedroom and the garage first,” Garnett suggested. “There’s more. 

 

“Lead on, MacDuff,” Clint told her. “Let’s see what else this place holds.” 

 

“This is where he lived.” Clint looked around the large space of the master.  A small twin bed was hidden behind piles of paperbacks and scripts. Dishes filled the bathroom sink, medicine bottles  lined along the counter. The huge walk-in closet stored some day-to-day clothes, the rest taken up with unpacked costumes in stacks and on hangers. A laptop on a small table had a waterfall screensaver; it flickered to life when Stephen ran a finger over the keys. 

 

“There are boxes of scripts over here,” Wong called. “Numbered and signed by the people involved. Writers, producers, directors, actors …” 

 

“An international  _ Metropolis _ poster,” Phil pointed at the wall, “next to  _ Skyfall. _ ” 

 

“The tub’s bigger than the one in the Tower,” Clint announced. “And there’s an updated shower with multiple jets.” 

 

“He didn’t keep his magic in here either,” Wong said at the same time. 

 

“There’s a storage unit in the basement,” Garnett offered. “Quite a good sized one.” 

 

Down they went, the elevator opening onto a space that should have been cavernous if it hadn’t been filled wall-to-wall with gleaming colored metal and shiny tires.  

 

“Nobody pinch me,” Clint said. “If this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up. That’s a 1929 Duesenberg convertible coupe.”

 

“ _ The Gay Divorcee, _ ” Wong said. 

 

“1967 Shelby Mustang GT500 like in  _ Gone in 60 Seconds _ . A Delorean,  _ Back to the Future _ .  1969 Dodge Charger. 2002 Aston Martin Vanquish Coupe,  _ Die Another Day _ .” Clint paused. “And, of course, a 1966 Batmobile.” 

 

“Is that …” Phil stepped around the 1976 Lotus Esprit Coupe from  _ The Spy Who Loved Me _ . “Clint?” 

 

He heard the tentative hope blossom in Phil’s voice, a tremble of excitement.  Behind the black fin of the Batmobile, four motorcycles  clustered near the front wall.  

 

“The 1969 Captain America Harley Davidson?” Clint followed Phil’s gaze? “Or the … Holy shit. You don’t think that’s ...” 

 

“1942 Harley Davidson, WLA edition, saddle bags and gun holster, white star on the tank.” He reached out to touch the fender when he was close enough. “I’d have to check the registration number … it could be a reproduction …” 

 

“We know someone who could tell us if it is.” Clint put a hand on Phil’s shoulder.  

 

“Rogers’ bike?” Garnett stared. “The one from the newsreels? That’s amazing.” 

 

“There was more than one; Steve was hard on his bikes. Like to use them as projectiles to throw at tanks.” Phil sighed as he crouched down to get a better look. “I bet this one was refurbished at some point …” 

 

“Do you have a key for this door?” Strange asked; he’d wandered off and found the storage area.. “I’ll need a key to get in.” 

 

“It should be on the key ring.” Garnett shuffled through them and came up with an oddly shaped gold one. “A-ha!”

 

“If you’d be so kind as to try it.” He stepped aside and gave her access. The key turned easily; inside was more of the same, boxes upon boxes between the long but narrow concrete walls.  “Just as I thought. May I?” 

 

Shutting the door, he locked it again, took out the key, then reinserted it  This time, a stairway appeared, six steps down to a mezzanine level that looked out upon a lower floor crowded with bookshelves and display cases. 

 

“Pocket dimension,” Strange explained. “We’d have never accessed it when Hunter was alive; any other magician making the attempt would have been blasted into the outer universes.” 

 

“Wait, wait.” Clint stood aside and let Wong head down into the main library area. “We saw the storage area.” 

 

“Oh, it’s there; Hunter layered a portal on the existing door that would open only for himself.  Changing the spell for your family would be easily done.” Stephen smiled, a rare sight.  “In fact, I can upgrade all the protections in exchange for first pick from this room.” 

 

“That’s assuming we buy this place. I’m not sure we can afford it,” Phil replied.  “With the value of the property alone, plus everything that’s in here …” 

 

“Can we talk?” Garnett motioned Phil and Clint out into the garage. 

 

“Go,” Stephen said. “I’ll have to drag Wong out of here as it is.” 

 

“I thought you understood,” Garnett said when they were out of earshot. “The cousins don’t care about the value of Hunter’s belongings; they’re wealthy in their own right. They want this place sold as fast as possible; they left a minimum and discretion of acceptance is up to our office.” 

 

“What minimum?” Clint jumped in. Best to rip the bandaid off now rather than leave any false hope. He was halfway in love with this place already. “Eighteen? Twenty? That’s too rich.”

 

“Four.” 

 

For a second, the number didn’t register then Clint did a double take. “You mean fourteen?”

 

“Four. As is. With all the content.” 

 

Clint’s  mouth opened and closed like a fish, nothing but short breathy sounds coming out. 

 

“We’ll take it.” A goofy grin spread across Phil’s face. “All of it. “ 

 

“All of it,” Clint agreed, hardly believing it. 

 

“Let me make the call,” Garnett said. 

 

“You sure about this?” Phil asked as Garnett walked off to one side, phone to her ear. “It’s going to be a lot of work to get this place in living condition.” 

 

“Come on, you know you want those comic books and there’ll be plenty of room for Lola once we sell some of these. A pocket dimension to make an archery/shooting range plus a safe room for the family? Magical security system? Elevator? Big tub? Tons of rooms, each with their own bathroom? That outdoor patio? Close to the Sanctum for when Bella gets old enough to learn to control her popping in and out?” Clint was getting excited just thinking about it. “We’ll tear down the drywall over the windows … Thor and Steve will help, I’m sure …. take out that weird front entryway …” He paused. “Hey, I wonder what was through that other doorway. We never did find the room behind it. Let’s go see while she’s on the phone.” 

 

Pointing at the elevator so Garnett knew where they were going, they tried to open the door but none of the keys Garnett threw them worked. Clint could have opened it, given time, but Phil suggested there had to be access from inside so they circled the living room and kitchen, sending Stephen’s ball of light behind boxes until they found a half-hidden entry to a hall bathroom.  

 

The marble topped vanity was covered with makeup and application tools, the tiled shower lined with shampoos and various skin products. A second door opened into what should probably be a formal dining room, but was walled in by hastily erected drywall. It was filled with racks of costumes and shelves full of props.  Space suits vied for room next to western plaid shirts and military uniforms from various time periods. 

 

“Going for the high end thrift store look?” Clint rubbed his fingers along a velvet sleeve of a brocade jacket. “I mean, I can see this guy being into cosplay or reenactments, can’t you? Maybe into taking photos?” 

 

“Shall we open door number two and find out?” Phil unlocked a series of complex locks on the one exit.  “Let’s hope it’s not magically boobytrapped.”

 

The door swung inward and Clint stood in the threshold, speechless. 

 

White covered all the surfaces -- walls, ceiling, even floor.  A four poster wooden bed dominated one corner of the room, angled towards the center, with room to walk around it. Rings on the posts, the walls, and the ceiling dangled heavy chains, lengths of sibari rope coiled in rounds on the floor. A St. Andrew’s Cross was in the opposite corner, a selection of whips of all styles and lengths hanging from hooks nearby.  

 

“Not just role play” Phil said, walking to one of the large wooden armoires and opening the top doors.  Dildos of all sizes and colors lined the shelves; drawers below held cuffs and clips and plugs.  “Man was thorough, I’ll give him that. Pretty much one of everything in here.” 

 

“I’d say so. We go from this,” Clint pointed to  a pink feather tickler , “to this.” Lined with blue velvet, the drawer held a gleaming selection of knives. “ He picked one up and flipped through his fingers. “Damn fine workmanship with good balance. Wonder where he bought them.” 

 

“Ah, um,” Phil stopped short at a giant sized red, white, and blue dildo complete with Cap’s shield on the hilt. “I mean, honestly, that’s just impossible. Who can use these enormous things?” 

 

“Gotta work up to it.” Clint picked up the tickler and ran it along the curve of Phil’s neck. “That’s pretty tame compared to the Hulk ones.” 

 

“No. Just … no.” Phil closed the doors. “I’ve got no problem with any of this, but sex fantasy with the Hulk? No.” 

 

“Maybe we’ll keep this room as is,” Clint teased.  “Always good to try new things.” 

 

“If you want me to tie you up, all you have to do is ask.” Phil gave Clint that fond gaze, the one that let Clint know just how much Phil loved him. “Always wanted to try the candle wax thing.” 

 

Clint dropped a light kiss on Phil’s lips. “As you wish, babe. As you wish. Now let’s go buy a house” 

**NINE MONTHS LATER**

 

“I’m paying for the Aston Martin and that’s the end of the argument. Pep, write them a check so I can drive it home.” Tony waved his martini glass to punctuate his statement. “I’ve already started on the invisibility cloaking device for it.” 

 

“You can’t accept a gift?” Clint returned. “After all you’ve given us?”

 

“Nope. I don’t like being handed things.” Tony, once he got his back up, was almost impossible to argue with. “Accept it.” 

 

“How about we donate the cost of the car to the Robin Hood Fund?” Pepper suggested, her glass filled with cucumber water as she rested one hand on her pregnant belly.  

 

“You’re brilliant.” Tony kissed her cheek. “Send eight … no make it ten million. Nice and even. Now, about that Han Solo blaster …” 

 

“Papa!” Bella spun across the room, her purple tutu a match to her leotard and flashing light sneakers; Dodger followed, nipping at her heels. “Can Dodger have a bone?” 

 

“Sure.” Clint caught his daughter and swung her around. “And don’t to forget to thank Aunt Pepper for helping pick out the furniture. She’s the one who found the treehouse bed.” 

 

“She already did,” Pepper assured him.  “And gave me a lovely drawing to take home.”

 

“So she and Uncle Tony don’t forget us. Since we’ve got our own house now.” Bella dashed off to the kitchen pantry.

 

“She’s going to be playing on that for months,” Clint said. “Little scamp.” 

 

“Like father, like daughter, eh?” Tony laughed.  “No, about that…”

 

“Tony, Tony, Tony!” Joshua barrelled into Tony’s legs, almost knocking him down. “Daddy said he’s going to give you one of our cars and Uncle Steve got his motorcycle back and Papa’s car is orange with a black stripe! Wanna go see ‘em? Papa says I have to have a grown up with me to go the garage ‘cause I might crawl in an engine, but I wouldn’t do that, honest. I might fix ‘em up but I wouldn’t break ‘em.”

 

“Whoa there, Wheels.” Tony passed his drink over to Pepper and scooped Josh up.  Healthy and full of energy, Josh was still in the 30% percentile for his weight and height. His hesitancy to talk was long gone; now, between ongoing chatter and constant singing, Josh rarely stopped. “You don’t have to convince me; after we eat, you and I will pop the hood for a look see.” 

 

“Now?” At least Josh asked instead of demanding; pre-kindergarten was doing wonders for his social skills. “Please?” 

 

“Burgers are done!” Jan shouted through the doorway. “Hank says come and get ‘em.” 

 

“See? Food’s up and we want first pick.” Swinging Josh up on his shoulders, Tony headed outside. “Come on, Pep.  Meat’s good for our growing boy.” 

 

“What are you going to do if she’s a girl?” Clint asked as they walked out onto the patio. “There’s a fifty/fifty chance, you know.” 

 

“Oh, Clint, the lights are lovely!” Pepper put the two drinks on one of the end tables that went with the couches. “Where did you find them?” 

 

“Phil saw the bulbs in a store just a few blocks over and we bought the lanterns at the hardware store.  Bella wanted fairy magic, so …” Clint shrugged. 

 

“Hey, when’s the Star Wars auction happening?” Carol asked, coming up behind them. “I’ve got my eye on Chewie’s bandolier, assuming there’s a team discount.” 

 

“Sometime in November,” Clint answered. “We finally decided on Doctors Without Borders for the charity.” 

 

Phil slipped an arm around Clint’s waist. “Dealing with it is almost a full-time job. Thank you again, Pepper, for the warehouse space to store it all.” 

 

“Considering how much the Maria Stark Foundation benefited from the posters and scripts you donated, I should be thanking you,” she said. “Now, I’m going to use the pregnancy card to cut in line and get one of those burgers. I’m always hungry lately.” 

 

Clint watched his friends and family gather around the table, underneath the glow of lanterns, plates piled high with food. Tony balanced Josh on his knee, Bella and Torunn between Jane and Maggie, Bruce laughing with Thor. Steve held out a chair for Pepper, and Carol wedged a chair in at the corner, leaving the ends for Clint and Phil.  Hank wiped his hands on his apron while Jan flitted around, filling glasses.  Natasha smiled and waved him over. They looked so happy, sitting on the patio, the lights of his home filtering through the windows. 

 

Owning a home in Greenwich Village had never been on Clint’s bucket list, nor had becoming a philanthropist.  Each day he walked the kids and the dog to the park, drove into the garage, shot a round downstairs at the range, or hung out with Natasha in the TV room, he blessed whatever strange whim of fate had given him this happy life.   He’d thought that Phil was the best thing that had ever happened to him … and he still pinched himself every morning he woke up next to Phil -- and yet more good things kept coming.  Kids, a house, a dog, friends, and family balanced the hearing loss and growing old, the knowledge that bad things were coming. 

 

He didn’t deserve it, but he’d take it and hold on with both hands. 


End file.
